Alphabet Soup
by StarlingChild4
Summary: A collection of oneshots/drabbles of the ENTIRE Disney Animated Canon list. Two (sometimes three) films per letter prompt, randomly selected. Genres range from Family, Friendship, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Drama, etc. Just little moments of the characters from all of Disney's 56 animated films...
1. Artist

_**Disclaimer: I own NOTHING Disney related! All film titles and characters belong to the Walt Disney Company.**_

 _ **Author's Note: This Alphabet Drabbles fic is going to cover ONLY the ENTIRE Walt Disney Animated Canon List so far (from Snow White to Moana), so don't expect titles like: A Goofy Movie, Nightmare Before Christmas, Toy Story, etc. But they will also be completely out of order, as I matched the films on whichever ones ought to share a prompt. There will be two films per letter/prompt, with four exceptions making it three films per prompt (otherwise, it would make 52, not 56).**_

 _ **Films Used: Dumbo and The Princess and the Frog. Two types of "artists" are described here...**_

 _ **That said, enjoy!**_

* * *

 **Artist**

 _Dumbo_

If you ever went down to the South, you'd come across a famous traveling circus. They have been well-established for years, bringing laughter and joy to all the nearby small towns, but recently, their fame shot up when a miracle occurred.

If you ever went to the circus grounds, you'd find just outside the tents and cages and train tracks, a lone man sketching away in his notebook, always looking up at the sky. You'd ask him if he was drawing the clouds or the horizon where the sun shone brightly against the rolling green hills. He'd smile and say those were merely the background, while he was focusing on the "main attraction." He'd lightly nod his head and you'd look up and finally see the miracle, soaring in the sky, with a flock of crows following behind.

If you ever went down to the South, when the circus came to town, you'd find an artist capturing the likeness of the amazing flying elephant. And then, once he finished drawing, he'd stand up, fold up his chair, tip his hat politely and caught the nearest train ride out of the area. No one knew who he was or what he wanted, but it wouldn't be long after his mysterious disappearance when the amazing flying elephant would show up on every big screen across America...

* * *

 _The Princess and the Frog_

Naveen loved watching his wife cook in the kitchen.

Not because he enjoyed being waited upon (once he would have gladly said so), but because she always danced and sang while she worked. First, she turned on the kitchen radio to her favorite station, then brought out the pots and pans and ingredients. Then, as a song began playing, she'd begin tapping her toes and moving to the beat, while tying her apron. She'd hum while mincing the vegetables, and then scat quietly as she sauteed the oil in the pan. Her hips would sway, and her melodic, deep voice would ring out as she seasoned the food. She pretended to dance with the broom as she swept up the floor, and wiped down the counters, her hips still moving up and down to the music on the radio. And when the song came to an end, she'd take a look at her progress, test taste, and call Naveen to try it.

She never knew how much he loved watching her, from the kitchen window, while he pretended to tend the garden. It was like watching an artist paint a masterpiece: stunning, breathtaking, mesmerizing. No, Naveen never told her his secret, because that would take away the precious moment and make it seem forced or awkward. Instead, he pretended to take a moment to come to the kitchen door so he may taste her delicious food and reassure her it was perfect.

Just like her.

* * *

 _ **AN: Totally different drabbles, right? That's going to be the goal for this fic challenge: two (or three) films that share a prompt but have totally different takes or perspectives on it. Next time: the letter "B" for Aladdin and Hercules!**_


	2. Belong

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing Disney-related. All characters belong to the Disney films and/or the original stories.**_

 _ **Author's Note: Ahhhh, I'm sorry! I took forever to update! Life got in the way... -.-" But now I'm back and plan to update these alphabet drabbles far more frequently. Here's an emotional introspective look at two Disney heroes whom I consider two sides of the same coin...**_

 _ **Films Used: Aladdin and Hercules. Canon events.**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

* * *

 **Belong**

 _Aladdin_

The palace walls and grounds were as magnificent as they come. Ivory, jewels, and gold studded the walls, doors, and floor, all sparkling and overly decadent. Gorgeous fountains and ponds scattered about the grounds, built in symmetrically to create a picturesque view from any distance. Inside, the ceilings were massively high, connected only by giant pillars, and a few exquisite chandeliers.

Aladdin sighed and flopped down on a pile of pillows. So soft and soothing... He closed his eyes and set his mind adrift. All his life, he learned to sleep on hard ground and dirty, itchy cloth. At a very young age, he was forced to learn how to steal food, carefully, silently, while mingling in a busy marketplace. He didn't like it, and he even tried to learn a trade, which only resulted in being tossed out into the street, with shouts and sneers of how they refuse any help from "worthless street rats." With no parents or inheritance of any kind, Aladdin had to survive in an unforgiving world by breaking the law.

Thanks to Genie, he could remain behind the palace walls, protected and comforted from the ghosts of his past. Thanks to Genie, he could marry Jasmine, the princess, and become a rightful heir to the throne.

But was he?

Was he truly the rightful heir, married to Jasmine or not? Aladdin had heard stories, vague, distant memories of his mother when he was very young, of poor, peasant girls who married into royalty and lived happily ever after. But he never heard of a poor, peasant boy marrying rich! The very concept was laughable.

Aladdin burrowed his face deeper into the pillows, trying vainly to block out his doubts. And yet, a lingering thought continued to plague his mind.

 _Do I even belong here?_

* * *

 _Hercules_

As the pearly gates to Olympus opened, revealing his birthright, his magnificent home, Hercules felt overwhelmed with a surge of happiness, pride, and excitement. For as long as he could remember, he longed to find a place where he'd be welcomed with open arms, for simply being himself. His childhood home was plagued with painful memories of the townsfolk shunning his "freak" nature and his poor Earthly parents timidly defending him, resulting in them being ostracized as well. Even his growing fame in Thebes was slightly hollow due to the fact that most of those affections were earned for saving the city multiple times.

For almost twenty years of his mortal life, he felt lonely in his heart of hearts, and wondered if anyone would ever truly accept him and welcome him to a place he could call home. Perhaps Olympus had the answers...

But then he turned around and watched Megara's sad, heartbroken frame slowly walk away from the celebrating gods, and suddenly he understood.

Something about Megara gave meaning to his life. Not just a goal or ambition, like his training with Phil was focused on rejoining his father, Zeus, on Mount Olympus. Meg gave him warmth, comfort, and filled the empty void in his soul that he always pretended wasn't there. His time with Meg also reminded him of how precious a mortal life can be, and truly made him realize how much his Earthly parents had sacrificed for his sake. But most of all, Megara showed her vulnerability to Hercules, and he reciprocated willingly.

He hurried over to the woman whom he almost died for, the woman who had died for him, and took hold of her hand.

 _A life without Meg, even an immortal life, would be... empty._ He spoke the words of his heart, without hesitation, without fear of rejection. He took hold of her hands and stroked them, feeling so distant from her in this godlike form. He longed to share physical warmth with her again, to be the same as her, to be one with her...

He voiced his deepest desire to his parents and embraced the woman of his dreams. As they leaned forward to kiss, he could feel his immortality leave his body and soul, but he didn't care.

He finally knew where he belonged.

* * *

 _ **AN: Please leave a review! Let me know what you think! ^_^ Next time: the letter "C" for Saludos Amigos/The Three Caballeros (they're combined) and The Emperor's New Groove!**_


	3. Celebration

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing Disney. All characters belong to the Walt Disney Company.**_

 _ **Author's Note: Well! The first one ended up longer than I anticipated! As part of the way these drabbles work, to fit all 56 animated films, I occasionally have to have a chapter like this one, that combines two films as one, to make technically three films under the same prompt. There will be four combos in all, whether there's a sequel or they're merely companion films.**_

 _ **Note: There are some Spanish and Brazilian Portuguese words here, italicized (not counting names). I know neither language, relying solely on Google, so if I made some mistakes, please forgive me and let me know! Translations (according to Google) are below the first entry.**_

 _ **Films Used: Saludos Amigos & The Three Caballeros (entirely fanon; with other classic Disney characters mingling together), and The Emperor's New Groove, post-movie events. **_

**_Enjoy!_**

* * *

 **Celebration**

 _Saludos Amigos & The Three Caballeros_

In the neighborhood of Mickey Mouse and his friends, a special occasion was taking place. Minnie and Daisy were preparing the food, Goofy was (attempting) to set up decorations (while Mickey kept a sharp eye and helpful hand nearby), and "Uncle Scrooge" was carefully wrapping up the presents. Huey, Dewey, and Louie ran about sporadically, helping whoever they could, and often reminding their elders of the time.

Finally, at 11 o'clock am, sharp, everything was miraculously in order.

"Mickey," Minnie called from the kitchen, "I see them coming! They're almost in the driveway!"

"All right, everyone, places!" Mickey said excitedly (while managing to dislodge Goofy's head from the fish bowl). Everyone scrambled around the front door, the three young ones in front, their hands grasping party favors, and they all held their breaths.

The door unlocked and in stepped three birds.

One was a red-feathered rooster, who wore a bright red coat to match, and a wide-brimmed sombrero, and at his hips, he bore two pistols.

The other was a green-feathered parrot, with a fashionable cane and old-fashioned cigar between his fingers (or feathers?).

And the third was a white-feathered duck, wearing an iconic blue sailor suit...

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, (UNCLE) DONALD!" The party shouted loudly together (his nephews, obviously, added the "Uncle"), shooting confetti into the air.

Donald Duck blushed and ushered his old friends forward.

"Friends, I want you to meet Panchito and José, my fellow _Caballeros_ ," he said in his usual, somewhat unintelligible, voice, but thankfully, years of exposure was enough translation for everyone present.

"Yahoo!" Panchito, the rooster, shouted, and proceeded to exclaim and shout in rapid-fire Spanish, tossing his sombrero in the air, and candy from his pockets (much to Huey and Dewey and Louie's delight). José took a long inhale from his cigar, and sighed something in Brazilian Portuguese, smiling at the antics of his friends, before approaching Daisy Duck, and kissing her hand. Soon, everyone was shaking hands, laughing, and exchanging pleasantries, and they moved from the front hall to the living room. Scrooge McDuck seemed particularly keen to chat with José, whose cane seemed to made of an older design that the old duck had not seen in years. Minnie mentioned something about a cake, and Mickey offered to help her. Goofy followed them (saying he'll help light the candles, but really, Mickey dragged him along so he could keep an eye on his old, clumsy friend).

This left the living room occupied solely with birds, both of the Duck family and of the two Latino guests. Daisy laughed at Uncle Scrooge debating with José over whose cane was more valuable, and of her adopted nephews surrounding the exuberant rooster, all chatting away excessively.

"Here, _mi amigos_ ," Panchito suddenly said jovially to the nephews, whipping out a small booklet from his coat pocket, "here's a few memories with your _tío_ , myself, and José, there. Just a couple of keepsakes of our days visiting Brazil, Mexico, et cetera, to celebrate the old boy's birthday, eh?" He playfully nudged Donald's ribs (who was currently trying to ask Daisy when dinner would be ready, and promptly squawked in protest). "Ha!" Panchito laughed. "Never change, _mi amigo_."

"I don't plan to," Donald grumbled under his breath.

"Ay yi yi, what a shame, my friend," José said, who had now ended his discussion with Scrooge, and was slyly leaning against the wall and examining his feathers. "There was once upon a time when you said the same thing, and now you've gone and settled down with a _bela moça_ ," he nodded graciously to Daisy, who was clutching her sweetheart's arm.

"What does he mean, Donald?" she asked sweetly.

Panchito, still waving the little booklet in his grip, exchanged wicked grins with José. "Oh, nothing much, _señorita_ , except that your boyfriend was a bit of a, ah, what you call? A casa- a caso—no-"

"A Casanova, I believe is what you're thinking of," José said, albeit a bit muffled, as he was taking another drag from his cigar.

Donald turned pale (if a white duck can turn pale). Daisy merely narrowed her eyes. But Donald's nephews busted up laughing.

"Uncle Donald? A Casanova?" Huey cried, laying on the floor and pounding the floor.

"No one's ever looked at Uncle Donald twice except Aunt Daisy!" Dewey gasped, clutching his sides.

"You're gonna have to give us proof to believe you," Louie said, grinning from ear to ear, and leaning against the living room armchair to catch his breath.

"Ah, but we have!"

"You wouldn't!" Donald blurted out, before slapping a hand over his mouth (er, beak).

" _Amigo_ , _cálmate_ , _cálmate_ , it's all just a bit of fun," Panchito said soothingly (but with a teasing glint in his eye). "Who wants to see some photos of _Tío Donald_ chasing after some pretty ladies?"

The three nephews all shouted affirmation at once. Donald turned even paler, then pink, red, redder, deep purple, until-

What followed next could only be described as chaos. Donald flew into a terrible, infamous tantrum, chasing Panchito all over the living room, and his nephews chased after him, bombarding him with questions of "Why are you so upset, Uncle Donald?" and "So, there really are pictures of proof?!" and "Why can't we see them?!" and "Uncle Scrooge, was Uncle Donald really a Casanova?" while Uncle Scrooge scoffed and said something along the lines of none of his business. Daisy stood stock still for a solid minute, before shouting at Donald to come back here at once, and explain himself! José simply leaned against the wall, calmly taking drag after drag on his cigar, and passively sticking his foot out to trip up his friends during their chase, from time to time. Scrooge shook his cane and attempted to discipline his great-nephews (he knew there was no helping Donald once he was on a rampage), but pandemonium demanded forefront attention and so it would be.

Mickey and Minnie stepped out the kitchen, smiling, and presently a grand, freshly iced cake, with Goofy trailing behind them, humming to himself. They stopped dead in their tracks at the chaotic scene before them.

José smiled at them serenely, seemingly unmoved by their dumbfounded expressions.

"It's what you might call a 'celebration,' eh?" he said nonchalantly, nodding at the sight.

"I'd call it 'chaos,'" Mickey remarked, his eyes glued on Donald scrambling on top the hearth to reach Panchito, who was perched on the high ceiling rafters, waving the little booklet in his hand teasingly.

José shrugged. "Same difference, in my country, anyway."

Goofy guffawed loudly. "Gawrsh, Mickey, that does sound about right!"

Mickey exchanged looks with Minnie. They both sighed and shrugged.

"I think I better hide the cake in the kitchen before anything happens to it," Minnie said delicately, stepping back a few paces before turning heel.

"Right behind ya, dear," Mickey said, shaking his head at his crazy friends. "Goofy, try to calm down Donald, will ya?"

"Righto, Mickey-o," Goofy said importantly, before marching into the living room and promptly getting knocked out by a swinging (and very angry) duck on the ceiling fan. Mickey sighed. Maybe José was right. This was a typical "celebration" among friends, at least, friends of Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck...

* * *

 _ **AN: Translations: mi amigos = my friends; tío = uncle; bela moça = beautiful lady (Brazilian); señorita = lady; cálmate = calm yourself**_

* * *

 _The Emperor's New Groove_

Emperor Kuzco's annual pool party (which lasted, essentially, throughout the whole summer season) was a favorite pastime for himself and his subjects. The tradition began on his eighteenth birthday, and kept up well into his twenties and early thirties, and, according to the Emperor himself, would stay that way until his last year on Earth.

On one of those long, fun summer days, with peasants from across the kingdom coming to "Pacha's village" (its namesake now quite famous for being close friends with the Emperor), several young children gathered around excitedly at the edge of the pool, where their beloved leader would soon be sliding down from his summer home.

Sure enough, with a loud, whooping call, a tall, thin man came flying down the hill and splashed into the pool. He emerged with a laugh, and swooped up two of his royal children and swung them around in the water, as they squealed with joy. The peasant children watched, awestruck, that this jovial man was their revered Emperor, the one that their parents still spoke of with importance and pompousness (old habits die hard). But that wasn't the half of it.

The Emperor had what you might call a "baby face," retaining the thin, youthful frame of his early days of ruling. Most people who looked upon him could hardly tell whether he was a teenager or an older adult. His eccentric nature didn't help matters. Emperor Kuzco loved dramatic entrances and exits, shouting "Boom, baby!", while kicking open the door, and had a snarky manner of talking with friends. His wife always managed to meet his sarcasm and jokes head on, which is partially what drove Kuzco to choose her as his bride by the time he turned twenty-one. Together, they produced half a dozen heirs to the throne, three boys and three girls, one per year, and taught them right away to become acquainted with their people.

For the Emperor did not want his children to repeat his mistakes from the past.

Kuzco was crowned Emperor almost as soon as he was born, due to his father's death during his mother's pregnancy and his mother, naturally, succumbing to illness post-childbirth. He was left with no siblings, no close relatives; merely, a shady elderly advisor and her on-again, off-again boyfriends/assistants, and an entire palace full of "yes men." No one ever disciplined Kuzco, or even attempted to give him advice that wasn't a droning lesson on history, economics, or religion. His "advisor," Yzma, was only interested in playing pseudo-empress, and pampering Kuzco to keep his mood passive and in check. As a result, for the first eighteen years of his life, most peasants never had the chance to meet the Emperor himself, only speaking with Yzma, and sometimes confusing which of the two were really in charge. Kuzco didn't particularly care, as long as things went his way, and his way was hardly ever his subjects' (or Yzma's) way. No one except the palace workers knew the spoiled Emperor's true nature, but none of them dared to share it with anyone outside the palace walls.

But, what really launched the Emperor's fame beyond his royalty, was the infamous several days before his eighteenth birthday, when he was accidentally magically turned into a llama. The story spread throughout Kuzco's kingdom, and, almost every year, he was bombarded with questions of his life as a temporary llama.

And it happened again, at this summer pool party. Kuzco finally stepped out of the pool, drying himself off and wearing his signature llama-embroidered poncho (made by Pacha's wife), and was soon dragged off to a rock slab where a gaggle of young children awaited his storytelling.

With two of his own younger children hanging on his back and arms, Kuzco showed remarkable patience with the peasant's children, who threw caution to the winds, grabbing his hands and shouting their questions all at once.

"One at a time, one at a time," Kuzco cried, laughing, eventually managing to sit down and disentangle himself from all of the children's groping fingers. Soon, the questions were presented and answered: Was Kuzco really a llama? Did Yzma really turn into a cat? Is she still a cat? Where was Kronk? How did the Emperor befriend a village headman? Pacha said the Emperor was a lousy llama, how so? What was he like as Emperor before becoming a llama?

Kuzco froze at that last one. He looked up and locked eyes with his old friend, Pacha, who was sitting in the back with his family. The older man cocked an eyebrow. Emperor Kuzco sighed and smiled wryly at his young audience.

"Let's just say I have something else to celebrate every summer: the beginning of my new era. I wasn't exactly a good Emperor before..."

* * *

 _ **AN: Let me know what you think! Next time: the letter "D" for Pinocchio and The Black Cauldron!**_


	4. Death

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing Disney related. All characters belong to the Walt Disney Company and/or their original stories.**_

 _ **Author's Note: Ughhhh, I took longer than I anticipated with this one... again. Sorry! ^^" These drabbles are proving to be more of a challenge than I originally thought... I suppose it's to be expected, since I am covering the entire 56-film canon list. Oh well. Can't quit now!**_

 ** _Films Used: Pinocchio and The Black Cauldron. SPOILERS AHEAD FOR BOTH._**

* * *

 **Death**

 _Pinocchio_

The passing of Monstro the Whale, the Terror of the Mediterranean Sea, seemed almost too incredible to believe. Since ancient times, that creature had devastated fishing boats, battleships, and various other human attempts of crossing his territory. The Greeks believed that praying to their god of the Sea, Poseidon, could keep their sea voyages safe, while the Romans pleaded to Neptune. No one knows if either god (or if they are one and the same) is real, but most of the time, the prayers seemed to work. Mainly because Monstro mostly slept at the bottom of the sea floor, until it was time for him to feed, every other week or so. Then he terrorized the fish and other creatures of the Sea, sometimes even rising to the surface if he desired.

All of the creatures of the deep, even of colder, deeper waters, knew of the Terror, and feared him. Even other famous terrifying monsters of the ocean, such as the Kraken and the Sea Serpent, didn't bother to challenge or ally with Monstro. The giant whale was far more aggressive than his more peaceful cousins, even compared to the vicious Orca, and didn't require as much air as they did, thus, his times above the surface were unpredictable. It was the law of all creatures of the water to stay as far away as possible from Monstro the Whale.

Then, on a seemingly ordinary day, mysterious rumors began whispering among fish and mollusks of the Mediterranean Sea. A young boy made of wood had plunged down into the deep, with a heavy stone to anchor him. His companion was a small, strange creature that none of the fish had ever seen before. Both of these strangers continued calling out the same thing: "Father!", and "Mr. Gepetto!", and asked around for the whereabouts of Monstro. What strange beings! Surely, they realized the Terror would only eat them alive? In spite of themselves, fish and other sea creatures kept their eye on the odd pair, wandering along the sea floor, calling out for this person, and seeking the last thing anyone could ever wish to see...

Rumor has it that the same strange, wooden boy brought upon the death of Monstro the Whale. Not by design, but sheer luck. The seagulls reported to porpoises that the corpse of the Terror could be found, half buried by the cliffs leading back to the mainland. Curious fish and other creatures journeyed to see for themselves, despite the terrifying concept of the Whale still being alive. But no, slowly but surely, the story began spreading throughout every sea in the world, shocking and relieving everyone (even other monsters, though they won't admit it). But only in the Mediterranean Sea does another rumor circulate that the wooden boy who was crazy enough to search for Monstro, had actually angered the Whale enough to the point where it willingly crashed headlong into the cliffs, driven by vengeance to get rid of him.

For the first time since time began, it seemed, the fish and creatures of the Mediterranean Sea could live out their lives in peace. All because one wooden boy dared to seek out the Terror and bring about his long-awaited death...

* * *

 _The Black Cauldron_

"It's ironic, really," Eilonwy always said afterwards. "That he should die at the hands of his own weapon that he searched for so long for. Served him right!"

"Indeed," Flewdurr said, shuddering at the memory. "Though, I must say, that was quite possibly the most hideous, horrific, absolutely terrifying death I've ever seen!" His harp strings remained quite still, but even without their snapping, Taran knew the bard spoke the truth. The image of the Horned King's gruesome death was burned into his skull, forever reminding him that he could very well have shared the same fate had he not clung to the solid stone tablets on the castle's floor.

For days after their adventure defeating the Horned King and stopping the Black Cauldron's evil powers, Taran and his companions traveled on foot back to Caer Dallben, all the while rehashing over every detail, partly to remind each other of their impossible survival, and to also fill in the details with Gurgi, the unlikely hero of the group. But by the third day, Taran was exhausted of recalling memories he'd rather erase. Even with Gurgi's miracle, Taran remained haunted with the image of his little friend jumping into the Cauldron to save them all.

"What was death like, Gurgi?" he finally asked one night, after they made camp, and while Flewdurr and Eilonwy were preparing a fire. The little furry creature pondered for a few moments, scratching his ears absentmindedly.

"Gurgi is not sure, Master," he said at last, in his strange, primitive voice. "Gurgi only remembers dark and silence. No talkings and singings, no yellings, or whackings and smackings. Just... quiet. Like when Gurgi sleeps, only without dreamings."

"D-did it hurt?" Taran asked softly, almost dreading the answer.

"Gurgi doesn't know, Master," Gurgi said, his eyes downcast and shuffling his toe in the dirt. "Can't really explains it. Gurgi remembers jumping in the scary Cauldron and then... nothing. The last thing Gurgi remembers after that is the silent darkness and then being picked up by Master and waking up."

Taran nodded, satisfied with the closest answer he could expect. As Gurgi scrambled off to the Eilonwy's call for dinner, Taran remained in the shadows of the forest, deep in thought.

"Taran?" He turned. Eilonwy stood a foot away, biting her lower lip and cocking her head on the side. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I was just asking Gurgi about... about what he went through."

Eilonwy paused then took a step closer and knelt down on the ground to Taran's level, who kept his back toward her. "And?"

"Well... it made sense, but it also seemed frightening. To die and be left in nothingness. At first, I tried to tell myself it was because Gurgi was destined to return to us, or that because he wasn't entirely human – if he is at all – it might be different for, say, you, me, and Flewdurr, but-"

"But, you're still scared."

"Y-yes."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with that!" Taran turned to face her again, mouth open, ready to argue, but Eilonwy covered it with her hand. "I mean, silly Assistant Pig-Keeper, that everyone fears death. It's perfectly normal, and you shouldn't be ashamed of it. And even if it's as Gurgi described it..." Eilonwy closed her eyes for a moment, and took a deep, shuddering breath, "well, it doesn't really matter, does it? After all, you're still alive!"

Taran stared at her in shock, then burst out laughing. Eilonwy blushed and nearly spluttered out an angry retort, but was silenced with he pulled her into a hug.

"Thank you, Eilonwy. I guess I needed someone to remind me," he murmured in her hair.

The princess remained stiff for a moment, then nuzzled against Taran's shoulder.

"I'll always be around to remind you of things, Taran of Caer Dallben, so you better get used to it."

* * *

 _ **AN: Not gonna lie, I inserted a bit more of Prydain characterization from the series than from the movie, but it still qualifies since the events mentioned in TBC is from Disney's film, not its original book.**_

 _ **Let me know what you think! Next time: the letter "E" for Cinderella and Beauty and the Beast!**_


	5. Ethereal

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing except my fics. All characters belong to the Walt Disney Company.**_

 _ **Author's Note: FINALLY. Sorry I'm so slow with the updates -.- This challenge is proving to be more difficult than I anticipated! (Luckily, I still have a set "schedule/outline" of films per letter) I managed to write the first piece last week, but the second was proving to be more difficult, despite it being about my favorite Disney film of all time. But, I think I managed. Enjoy!**_

 _ **Films Used: Cinderella and Beauty and the Beast. Relatively canon.**_

* * *

 **Ethereal**

 _Cinderella_

Hardly half an hour into the ball, and already, the Prince wished in vain for it to be over. He couldn't convince his obsessed father to cancel this nonsense, so now he had to put up with vaguely greeting hundreds of "eligible young ladies" of his kingdom. Princely duties as a whole were a bore, but this was most certainly the cream of the crop. Over and over, he bowed politely to his guests, most of whom were around his age, but ladies of all ages were invited here. Some had seen too few winters, or too many. _Father must be desperate._ The prince yawned and looked up at the grand clock overhead the ballroom. _God spare me, only thirty minutes have passed! Before midnight, I'll be dead on my feet!_

He stifled a groan, and plastered on yet another smile at his next guest.

XXXXX

Cinderella stepped out of her coach and approached the sweeping stairs leading up to the palace doors. Other than the Royal Guards, there was no one in sight. _I must be dreadfully late!_ She swallowed her fear, and walked as gracefully as her nerves allowed her down the hall, never knowing that the stoic Guards watched her with great interest...

XXXXX

Every single lady was staring him down, their eagerness hardly subtle, whether propriety demanded it or not. Some men may find it flattering, if not downright ego-boosting, to be the subject of attraction to so many ladies. But the prince hated it. He knew it wasn't anyone's fault, they couldn't help it. He was their prince, royalty, heir to the throne, and handsome to boot (the Prince wasn't arrogant enough to think that about himself, but after years and years of hearing it over and over, he simply grew accustomed to the idea. Bored by it, really). From the perspective of commoner or even noble ladies, he was the finest catch in the kingdom, and was up until now unattainable.

Until the king's wild decision to find the "perfect bride" for his son.

Until this infernal ball.

The Prince had to refrain from rolling his eyes when "Drizella and Anastasia Tremaine" all but ran up to him, batting their eyelashes and clearly doing their best to appear attractive, while only looking ridiculous. Their unconventional looks didn't bother the Prince (he had seen hundreds of lords and ladies from neighboring kingdoms who looked far less appealing), but the sisters' obnoxious attempts at flirting was nearly the final straw. He sighed under his breath and bowed, willing himself to be patient and get this over with.

But... then, he stopped, and looked up. Off in the shadows, gazing at her surroundings in wonder, though without the slightest glance towards the main attraction of the evening, was a beautiful maiden. She seemed to almost glow with pure light, natural and humble, and yet also clearly the prettiest lady in the entire palace.

The Prince didn't know what caused him to move. He was vaguely aware of his legs moving for him, as he walked toward the mysterious maiden, his heart pounding, wildly wondering if she was every bit as beautiful within as she was without.

XXXXX

Cinderella could not stop staring at the massive ceilings and pillars of marble. _Is this what royalty's like?_ She envied the king and his son, to be surrounded by such beauty all the time. But perhaps they were too used to it. Such a shame, that such elegance and architecture should go to waste...

Someone tapped on her shoulder. She spun around, startled, half-expecting to face the wrath of her step-mother, but instead found herself face-to-face with the handsomest man she'd ever seen. His eyes were light brown, soft, and curious. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Pardon me, m'lady," he said, bowing formally. "But would you do me the honor of joining me for a dance?"

"I-" Cinderella gasped, her heart nearly in her throat. _This can't be real! First, I manage to have my first night out at the ball, of all places, and now this handsome stranger wishes to dance?! With me?! But I'm just..._ "I'm afraid I don't deserve such company, sir," she managed, though her heart screamed to take his hand.

But then, he startled her by taking hold of her hand and kissing it, softly. "Please, m'lady, no one would dare think you unworthy dancing with me. I certainly do not."

"A-all right," Cinderella said, flustered. She cleared her throat, and curtsied, blushing profusely. "I mean, it would be my honor, sir."

XXXXX

The Prince knew he was being bold, knew the poor lady clearly was rather frightened at the idea of dancing with him. But something in her eyes, so bright and pure, so full of wonder and happiness, coaxed him to persuade her to swallow her nerves and join him.

When he kissed her hand, a jolt of electricity shot up and down his spine. He had kissed hundreds of hands, gloved and ungloved, pretty and hideous, young and old, but none affected him so strongly as he held, for the briefest moment, the delicate hand of this beautiful creature.

When she shyly took his arm, and he lead her to the dance floor, she walked with a more confident air, but retaining that distant, dreamy aura that attracted him so much from the moment he laid eyes on her.

The music started. They looked at one another, then his hand was on her thin waist and he pulled her close to a waltz. The endless, boring faces of "eligible young ladies" vanished in the background. His father's keen, watchful eyes from his private balcony were no longer a nuisance. Nothing existed, except for her eyes and smile, this ethereal maiden who seemingly came out of thin air...

* * *

 _Beauty and the Beast_

The first time he truly noticed Belle's inner beauty was after he had presented her with the library to call her very own. Of course, in the moment, her eyes radiated with unadulterated joy and anticipation at the prospect of reading and owning so many books, which caused a warm sensation to rise up in his chest. But then, some hours later, he found her sitting in one of the window seats, her nose buried in a book. She had a sort of soothing glow surrounding her, so content and mesmerized by the contents within her chosen story. He felt his heart skip a beat as he watched her giggle and sigh and whisper "No!" and "Oh, thank heavens!" as she read on and on.

Her quiet yet overwhelming adoration for stories won him over instantly. He remembered, somewhere in a distant, blurry past, when he also eagerly devoured grandiose stories of knights slaying dragons, princesses in towers, and of temperamental gods who rained down chaos and storms against heretics who dared to insult them. He now would leave old favorites out in the open whenever Belle visited her library, and watch her from the shadows, as she curiously picked them up and curled up in her favorite reading place. He would wait a little while, then call forth Mrs. Potts with her tray of tea things, and enter after her so he could casually ask Belle how she was getting on with her reading.

Those moments were his favorite, because the look on her face was always priceless.

XXXXX

It was rather alarming how suddenly Belle's views on the Beast were changing. First, he was a rude, almost cruel creature with a temper as monstrous as his appearance. But now, he was a sweet, almost kind person, yes, a person, seemingly trapped in a vicious cloak of fur and teeth. Whether he was a person cursed to be a Beast or a Beast given the gift of intelligence, she couldn't be sure, but he was becoming less and less of a "Beast" and more and more of a "man."

Once, she dared to ask if he had a name. He brushed it off, saying something like, "any name I've had is lost, because I don't deserve it." Her throat tightened at the heartache in his voice, but she decided not to push it, giving him the option to tell her whenever he feels ready.

Outside of her curiosity of the Beast's true identity, and rapidly growing change in character, Belle truly fell in love with the library he generously gave her, and also was rather fond of the times he shyly joined her in reading stories together. Growing up in the little town with her father, Belle had plenty of fairytales and Shakespearean plays to read, but here in the Beast's castle, the world of mythology opened for her. One morning, she entered her library, ready to settle back into Grimm's fairytales, only to be greatly surprised to find a great volume of Greek myths left out on her favorite reading seat. She looked around, and spotted the Beast's tail sticking out from the doorway. She smiled indulgingly, and curled up to read. She was lost in a world of gods, giants, Titans, and cyclops before Mrs. Potts came inside, bustling about how a "spot of tea" was best enjoyed while reading, and then, he entered as well.

He shuffled his large feet before sheepishly asking if she enjoyed her reading. She smiled even wider, and offered him a place on the window seat so they could read together.

XXXXX

Once upon a time, he would have believed that only pretty princesses deserved to be loved. He'd sooner find himself arm-in-arm with an airheaded beauty than try to speak to her on his level. Thus, when he was enchanted all those years ago, he lost all hope, because airheaded princesses could only be happy with handsome princes.

Belle changed that.

Not only was she an ordinary commoner, and very pretty at that, but she had brains and personality to boot. When he first laid eyes on her, he felt angry, furious even, that such a natural beauty would come across his castle but also very clearly be a peasant. Not only was his ideal "pretty princess" lost on her, but the concept of being loved by her seemed all the further away. His time spent with her soon dismantled any misconceptions he had of her, women in general, and his old "ideal."

Though Belle certainly wasn't very receptive to his "advances" at first, he knew in his heart that he did not make things easier by behaving rudely and tactlessly. After saving her from the wolves, and in turn, being saved from freezing to death, he slowed down and began observing her more. And, with her love for books, her kind nature, and her patience with his slow breaking of old habits, she transformed from a common pretty girl to the most beautiful woman in the world. If Aphrodite was supposed to represent beauty in women, he would point to Belle to be that archetype.

But it wasn't until the night he had asked for a formal, romantic dinner when he realized that "beauty" didn't give her justice.

XXXXX

The Wardrobe Lady had outdone herself, even Belle couldn't deny it. Though she had produced several lovely dresses for her to wear, tonight was different. She had never seen dresses like this in fairytale illustrations! Layers and layers of golden fabric, that twirled gorgeously at every turn, and made her feel like a real-life princess.

Tonight, in the company of a kind Beast, she would be living in a fantasy.

XXXXX

Ethereal.

That's what she was.

A celestial maiden trapped in a body of flesh.

But she was also more than that. She was intelligent, kind, fiery, and curious. She gave him a reason to learn to be kind in turn, to understand others, to appreciate life outside his curse.

And when they finished eating dinner and she pulled him into the ballroom, his heart pounding in his ears, and when he pulled her close by the waist, and looked into her smiling face, and when they began to dance...

He knew he was madly in love with this goddess.

* * *

 _ **AN: Please leave a review! Next up: the letter "F" for Bambi and The Lion King!**_


	6. Father

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing except my fics. All characters and worlds belong to the Walt Disney Company and the respective original sources.**_

 _ **Author's Note: The first half of this was actually written the same day I last updated (on November 3... it's now December 6...). But, sadly, like my last letter, the second half proved to be more difficult to write than anticipated. It didn't help that I had "Inuvember" drabbles to work on throughout November. -.-" But at last, I have the letter "F" ready to go! Enjoy!**_

 _ **Films Used: Bambi and The Lion King. Fanon for the former, canon for the latter. (Relatively)**_

* * *

 **Father**

 _Bambi_

The Great Prince of the Forest never gave the time or effort to make friends. He was the protector, keeping silent vigil over his lands, and never let himself be seen unless it's for a rare occasion or to warn his subjects of danger. For countless generations, a stag had always ruled as the Great Prince of the Forest, responsible for not only the safety of his home and subjects during his reign, but to also choose or, more often than not, procreate, his successor.

Each Prince had selected a wise, calm mate to bear his successor, and though it was not uncommon to have several mates to produce several offspring, usually the first mate's firstborn was chosen to become to next Great Prince. The Prince's mate would raise the future Prince with compassion, wisdom, and gentle yet firm lessons about living in the Forest. Ideally, the young fawn would grow into his role, and would take over the Great Prince's reign when he fully matured. But sometimes, there were obstacles, both internal and external.

Bambi's father, the current Prince of the Forest, apparently won his reign by fighting and defeating the original heir, who had grown savage and arrogant in anticipation of ruling the Forest. Bambi's father had taken it upon himself to confront the mad young Prince and challenge him to a duel, to see who was truly destined to rule the Forest. It was a long, gruesome battle, which simultaneously frightened and intrigued the creatures of the Forest, who had gathered round to see who their future Prince would be. Bambi's mother would later tell her son that it was both during and after this battle that made her fall in love with his father.

After his mother's passing, Bambi spent a great deal of time wandering around the Forest, lost in thought, and learning as much as he could through observations and conversations with his future subjects. His main concern with becoming the next Great Prince wasn't necessarily the responsibilities, but the apparent lack of friends. It was a well-known fact that the Great Prince of the Forest did not stay close to anyone; certainly, his distance from raising his son was enough proof of that. The thought of Bambi losing the companionship of Thumper and Flower was too much to bear.

Unable to deal with the pain of losing his friends prematurely, Bambi sought out the counsel of Friend Owl, who was one of the shrewdest creatures of the Forest. When he voiced his concerns, the old bird chuckled and ruffled his feathers in amusement.

"Young Prince, what makes you think that your father has no friends?"

"I- Well, everyone else seems to think so!" Bambi stuttered.

"Does 'everyone else' know the Great Prince personally?"

"Ummm..."

"Well, not to brag, but I do, Young Prince, and I am one of the Great Prince's closest friends. I've known him since he was born, just like I saw your birth."

Bambi stared up in surprise. Friend Owl hooted sympathetically.

"I know what ails you, Young Prince. You see your magnificent father, the Great Prince of the Forest, and wonder to yourself how anyone can live so long and rule so wisely, and yet still never make time for friends or loved ones. But that does not mean he does not care. The Great Prince cares more deeply for his late mate, your beloved mother, and you, and all of his subjects, than you or I could possibly imagine. He has spent years getting to understand the forest, from the oldest root to the newest leaf, from old recluses like myself to every new generation of baby rabbits. Did you know he had lived two decades before finally choosing your mother as his mate?"

Bambi shook his head, in awe.

"Your father takes his role as Great Prince very seriously, especially since it wasn't bestowed upon him from birth like it has been for you. He may seem distant and cold, but he is actually very wise and compassionate. But he is also strict and protective, hence why he doesn't always seem to make time for friends or family. Think, Young Prince, did you spend your every waking moment with your mother?"

"No, I had Thumper and Faline-"

"And thus, you didn't always witness times when your mother would bring up the last time she saw her mate, which, as I heard about from gossiping birds, happened several times every passing season. And you wouldn't know that the Great Prince was here, at my tree, only yesterday, to pass the time, would you?"

Bambi lowered his head. Friend Owl cocked his head briefly and nodded sagely when the young fawn slowly looked up again.

"Yes, Young Prince, not all friendships are about playtime or how often you see one another. Sometimes the most lasting of friends are the ones who understand that you cannot always be around, but you will always be there to depend on. And the same goes to how your father treats you," he added shrewdly.

"How did you-"

"Dear Bambi, I've lived in this Forest long before the first Great Prince arrived to rule our fair land. I do believe I recognize child loneliness when I see it. Your father loves you, and has always looked after you. The two of you may not shoot the breeze like my feathered-brained neighbors, but I believe he knows you better than you give him credit for. And in time, you'll know him just as well."

It would indeed be quite some time before Bambi fully understood his father. But his conversation with Friend Owl certainly made him appreciate the Great Prince more. And when he started heading back home to his quiet little den, he could have sworn he saw the figure of great stag standing off in the shadows, watching him in silence...

* * *

 _The Lion King_

Simba used to dream of becoming King. He longed to follow his wise father's pawsteps, to someday become one of the "great kings" among the stars, and to keep the peace in the Circle of Life. He spent many of his days as a cub preparing for his future reign, such as practicing his hunting skills, roaring at small lizards, and daydreaming up new rules he'd establish (most of which were solely to stick it to Zazu's traditionalist attitude).

That was before he witnessed Mufasa's murder. Before he fled from home, terrified, confused, and half-convinced that he's the reason that his father, the kingdom's kind and wise ruler, was now dead.

The flight from his former kingdom was mostly a blur. Simba only kept running and running, too panicked and miserable to think about anything other than getting as far away as possible from the horrible image branded in his memory. Mufasa, his kind, understanding, cool father, lying silently in the dust, under a shattered dead tree, never to move or smile or play again...

 _"If it weren't for you, he'd still be alive."_

Tears blinded Simba's vision as he kept running and running, hardly registering that he had long left the Pridelands behind and was now crossing a scorching hot desert. Eventually, his terror and sorrow turned to exhaustion, and though his sore paws managed to drag him further and further along, he soon collapsed in the heat. Before darkness overtook him, he thought he saw his father's face, looking down at him in disappointment.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered in a hoarse voice. "I didn't mean to. It was an accident." Then, he passed out.

The next thing he knew was water splashing him in the face. Simba opened his eyes blearily to face a meerkat and warthog, gazing at him in concern. He thought nothing of the matter, till a while later, when he realized that the wisecracking duo saved his life. He felt he didn't deserve it, but he also was grateful for having friends who knew nothing about him or his past. Death was an escape, to be sure, but so was his friendship and life spent with Timon and Pumbaa. Simba embraced it, ready to forget his terrible memories.

Time passed and his old dreams of becoming King were all but mere shadows. He became lazy, wanton, and listless. Days turned to weeks, and in time turned to years, but it was all one content blurred image of peace and "hakuna matata." The closest he came to reliving the nightmares of his past was one night, stargazing with his friends, when they asked him about his opinion on what stars were made of.

 _"Look at the stars. The great kings of the past look down on us from those stars."_

 _"Really?"_

 _"Yes. So whenever you feel alone, just remember that those kings will always be there to guide you. And so will I..."_

The bittersweet memory came to a screeching halt when Timon and Pumbaa burst out laughing over the idea of "royal dead guys" watching them. They didn't know the origin of the story, let alone the last soothing words that his father had said regarding the stars, so Simba couldn't blame them for being crass. But Mufasa's promise of watching out for him left a sour taste in his mouth. Especially because it was all his fault that he was gone...

 _"You are more than what you have become. You must take your place in the Circle of Life... Remember who you are..."_

No King was as wise as Mufasa. The Pridelands didn't deserve any King who wasn't to his standard. The idea of Simba, the foolish young cub responsible for the death of such a beloved King, to try to take back the throne from his usurper Uncle Scar was just... cruel. Simba was no King. He was a coward and an indirect murderer.

And yet, thanks to the urging from Nala, his father's spirit, and Rafiki, he found himself taking that long journey back. Running and running, like he did when he was young and terrified. He was still scared, only this time not at what was behind him but what was ahead...

The look on his mother's face when he admitted to his guilt was more punishment than all those years of running away. But it wasn't until he was hanging off the edge of a cliff, his uncle laughing cruelly and sarcastically mocking Simba's terrible memory, when it all fell into place...

 _"Now here's MY little secret: I killed Mufasa..."_

Every doubt, every fear that haunted him since that horrible day, suddenly vanished in a trace. And was instantly replaced with unadulterated rage. And a resolve: to do away with this evil leader who dared to destroy all that Mufasa, the Pridelands, and the Circle of Life stood for. The battle that ensued was in perfect clarity; for the first time since his father died, Simba felt completely focused and determined. He fought off hyena after hyena, until he saw his cowardly uncle slink off in the distance, and promptly chased after him.

The battle between uncle and nephew was a two-way fight: to conquer the throne and for Simba to finally face the nameless demon that haunted him for years.

But the ultimate moment to face his destiny was after Scar was defeated and rain fell onto the earth once more, and Simba began the ancestral ascent up Pride Rock to take his place in the Circle of Life. His muscles strained against the steep incline, but he pushed onward, feeling his father's spirit with him. As he reached the top and looked at the sky, where a gap in the clouds revealed the stars, the great kings, he heard his father once more:

 _"Remember..."_

And in that moment, Simba no longer bore the selfish fears and desires of his past. He was King. And his reign would ensure balance in the Circle of Life. He roared triumphantly in the night air, ready to start over.

Ready to make his father proud.

* * *

 _ **AN: Please leave a review! Next time: the letter "G" for The Rescuers/The Rescuers Down Under (combined) and The Great Mouse Detective!**_


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